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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553469">In the Middle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercalvin/pseuds/supercalvin'>supercalvin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Awesome Gwen (Merlin), Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Pining Merlin (Merlin), Post-Canon, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sick Character, Unrequited Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:35:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,802</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercalvin/pseuds/supercalvin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gaius sighed, 'That’s the problem, my boy. It’s so rare that it hasn’t been seen in over a generation. The only account I could find was limited. The patient had fallen in love with a married man who did not love her, and she had started to develop a cough that had produced flowers rather than mucus. A post-mortem examination found that a flower had magically planted itself in the woman’s lungs and had wrapped around her heart.'"</p><p>In which Merlin develops Hanahaki disease, but mysteriously does not die from it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1182</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The title is a line from "Pride and Prejudice" when Elizabeth asks Mr. Darcy how he first fell in love with her, he says, "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun." It is one of my favorite lines in the whole book.</p><p>Also: Sorry in advance.</p><p>Edit: There is now a <a href="https://www.fanfiktion.de/s/604fcb5e00052ddb27310adf/1/In-The-Middle">German translation </a>of this fic! Thank you to Megaera for translating this into German, it's truly an amazing compliment!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Merlin woke up slowly. His magic tingled, slowly moving from his core and spreading out until it reached the tips of his fingers, the top of his head, and the bottom of his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took in a deep breath, feeling the air come through his nose, down the back of his throat, and into his lungs. It was done without any thought, which was what woke up Merlin’s other senses. He rarely was able to breathe deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his eyes to see a single white gardenia lying on his pillow. He looked out the window to see that the sky was still pale, telling him that it was almost sunrise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been sixty-two days since he had last woken like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin pulled himself out of bed, pulling off his sleep tunic and warming up the water in the washing bowl with a quick spell. He washed efficiently, already thinking about the things he needed to do that day. Without pause, he tossed the gardenia out the window, where it would land in the grass outside the citadel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he dressed, he pulled on his boots and took the notebook that he had hidden under his bed, next to his grimoire and staff. He marked the day, and then returned the notebook to its hidden spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spring was on the horizon and Merlin was grateful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spring meant better times for Camelot’s people, the weather would treat them better, although the rains would surely cause a few floods near the rivers. But food would be more plentiful and soon farmers would have their hands full with new livestock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It also meant flowers were in bloom. Servants would decorate the corridors and chambers with freshly picked blooms. The roads and creeks would be dotted with petals, as the trees and bushes sprouted bundles of flowers in every color. Pollen would start to float through the air, causing a rise in hay fever all over the lower town and citadel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spring meant Merlin could easily cover his symptoms. He could blame the pollen for his coughing and watery eyes. He could easily play off the petals that accidentally caught in his neckerchief as something that fell from a nearby tree.  He could claim that he was helping Gaius with hay fever in the lower town when his symptoms were too much for him to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur could manage without him for a day. Sometimes Merlin just needed some peace and quiet, as rare as it was. Although, the last time Merlin had tried to skive, he had not told Gaius where he would be, and the old physician had told the Prince that Merlin was in the tavern again. Gaius usually didn’t look too guilty about this, but when Merlin had shown up haggard and struggling to breath, he had apologized and sternly told Merlin to tell him next time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That morning Merlin had time to sit and eat his breakfast, for which his stomach thanked him. If he didn’t have a substantial amount of food in the morning, he wouldn’t take his cough suppressing potion without feeling nauseous. After the one time he had vomited into Arthur’s helmet, he had learned that lesson the hard way. (Arthur had made him clean and polish every single piece of his armor. Twice. But he had also demanded that Merlin not get anywhere near him during training, which would have been an insult to anyone else, but Merlin had known it was Arthur’s way of demanding Merlin rest instead of running around doing chores.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cork made a loud popping sound as he uncorked the potion and downed it on one gulp. He followed it with a swish of warm tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another flower?” Gaius asked over his porridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin nodded, “Sixty-two days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius hummed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had been tracking the illness for years, with little to no change. Merlin would occasionally look through his grimoire or Gaius’ medical texts for a cure, but he had stopped hoping a long time ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Best get a move on. His Majesty should be waking by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin grunted, stretching his arms above his head, feeling his ribs expand and his lungs fill. It would be nice for a few days, until the next cycle started again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The illness had come on so softly and slowly, that Merlin could never tell when it had started. He had felt a little tired, but that was never anything new. Between working for Arthur, Gaius, and trying to stop regicide every other week, Merlin was typically a little bit tired. So at first, he had thought he had caught a cold, feeling a little tired with a tickle at the back of his throat. But it had lingered for days and days and days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius had given him some tea and a sleeping draught, but as Gaius had told him over and over again, “The only thing that cures a cold, Merlin, is time. Where is your patience, boy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even remember the first time he found a petal in his bed. He figured it had gotten there after he had fallen into bed in the dead of night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he remembers the day that he couldn’t stop coughing, the tickle in his throat having shifted into a never-ending cough that wracked his whole body. Arthur had taken one look at him (or rather had heard him) and had dismissed him for the day. He must have looked bad if Arthur had deemed him too ill to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin had coughed until he had finally felt the mucus rise up in his throat. It was disgusting, but he remembered feeling happy that he would be able to purge the sickness from his body. He had coughed into a bowl. It must have been the physician’s apprentice in him that wanted to examine the illness that had wracked his body for two weeks. But what spilled from his mouth was not a disgusting mix of saliva and mucus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a handful of soft pink petals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin remembered that he had touched his own mouth, pulling a small petal that had stuck to the inside of his cheek, and staring at it. He remembered trying to figure out how his magic had managed to change mucus into flowers. He had never had a problem with his magic reacting to a cold before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mentioned it to Gaius over supper, asking if it was possible that his magic had worked instinctually. Since he had started practicing magic, over three years ago at that point, he had gotten much better at controlling his magic. He would rarely cast spells on accident anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius had stopped eating immediately and asked if Merlin still had the petals. Merlin shook his head. He had thrown them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius had left his supper and pulled out a book at the bottom of a stack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it’s an enchantment?” Merlin had thought his mentor would tell Merlin to be careful of letting his magic loose. He thought Gaius would shake his head and tell Merlin to rest, and it was his own fault that his cold had lasted for so long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had not expected Gaius to look so distraught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius had not answered Merlin’s question, so he asked a different one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it something you’ve seen before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius shook his head. “No, but I’ve heard of something similar. I can’t be sure…” Gaius turned back to his tome. “Finish your supper and go to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin had felt exhausted by that point, so he didn’t see the point in arguing. He had taken a sleeping draught and a potion that he had hoped would suppress his cough. Then he fell into bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later he had woken to Gaius lightly sitting down on his cot, setting a cup of tea next at his bedside table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin grumbled about waking up, and Gaius had brushed a hand over Merlin’s head, “My boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s eyes opened at that. Gaius rarely was so soft spoken, unless he was being diplomatic. Merlin coughed a few times as he sat up in bed, taking a sip of tea as he tried to breathe evenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t happen to find anything last night, did you?” Merlin said, trying for a light tone, “Because I’m getting really tired of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius’ expression had not engendered hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is a rare magical sickness…” Gaius started, “I’ve only heard rumors of it.  I remembered reading a short passage about it many years ago, when I was still an apprentice. It took me all night to find it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it? What do I need to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius shook his head, “Merlin…please tell me you’re not in love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Merlin had laughed, thinking that Gaius was joking. When Gaius hadn’t smiled, Merlin felt the blood drain from his face. “Is it a love spell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know as well as I, that there are no spells that can actually make you fall in love. Lust and affection, surely, but not true love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin swallowed, his throat raw, despite the calming tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a rare illness, and I suspect that it clung onto you because of how powerful your magic is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re being awfully coy, Gaius. Just tell me what it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the problem, my boy. It’s so rare that it hasn’t been seen in over a generation. The only account I could find was limited. The patient had fallen in love with a married man who did not love her, and she had started to develop a cough that had produced flowers rather than mucus. A post-mortem examination found that a flower had magically planted itself in the woman’s lungs and had wrapped around her heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Post-mortem…” Merlin winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin sighed, resting an arm over his eyes, trying to breath in as deeply as he could without coughing. It wasn’t much and he found himself wheezing slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless you can manage to fall out of love…” Gaius said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin huffed out a laugh, which turned into a cough. He croaked out, “It’s not that easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius had patted him on the shoulder and quietly exited his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius had never mentioned the alternative, which was that the object of Merlin’s affections would fall in love with him. But they both knew that was far too complicated. Gaius also hadn’t asked who the person was, but to Merlin’s embarrassment it seemed to be less out of respect for Merlin’s privacy and more to do with the fact that he was already well-aware of who it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin had dressed and gone to wake Arthur. Camelot did not stop, just because Merlin was ill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A month later, Merlin woke up to petals strewn around his bed. He took a cough suppressing potion every morning and every evening. His muscles ached from restless sleep. His throat was constantly sore. He was having difficulty hiding his symptoms from Arthur, who Merlin had tricked into thinking the occasional cough was just residual symptoms from his previous cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two months later, Merlin could barely walk up a flight of stairs without being winded. His lungs felt full. He could perfectly picture the roots embedding themselves in his lungs as he struggled through his chores. He wondered if the roots and branches were already wrapped around his heart. Sometimes he felt a coldness in his fingers and toes, that he figured meant a loss of circulation, but he couldn’t be sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, one morning he woke up with a flower on his pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite having woken up to petals every single day for the past two months, Merlin had never woken up to a full flower. Dozens of petals in a variety of colors, yes. Petals and pollen and even bits of leaves, yes. But never a full flower. He picked it up and that was when he realized he could breathe deeply. His chest didn’t feel constrained. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to breathe normally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gaius,” Merlin had stumbled out of his room with the pink flower. “My lungs…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius had examined the flower and Merlin, but both appeared perfectly normal and healthy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What changed?” Gaius asked. “You seemed to be getting worse. I was getting worried, my boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. It felt awful last night. I could barely breathe at all. And then this morning…” Merlin shrugged. He was at a loss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaius frowned, “Have your feelings changed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin ran a thumb over the petals. Gaius said it was a camellia, the same kind of plant that was used to make black tea. Its petals were soft and pink, bunched together until they almost resembled a rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about Arthur, the man to whom he had dedicated his life and magic. He thought about how much he cared for him and how much he wished his feelings were reciprocated. Arthur was still an arrogant Prince, as he had always been, but he had changed so much. He had grown into a great leader and a kind man. Merlin could already see that he was becoming a great King.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shook his head, “I don’t know. I don’t feel any different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin felt something like hope flutter in his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s mind ran away with him, picturing a million scenarios, all having the same ending: Arthur declaring that he had realized that he was in love with Merlin last night and that would explain why Merlin’s illness had vanished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Gaius said, “But let’s not question it for now. Eat your breakfast, it’s almost sunrise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin had a hop in his step the whole way to the Prince’s chambers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as the day continued it became abundantly clear that nothing had changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nor in the next week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nor in the week after that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur continued to court Gwen. Of course he did, because he was in love with her and had been for years now. Arthur and Guinevere were soulmates. She had been the ‘true love’s kiss’ when Arthur had been enchanted to love Lady Vivian. They had gone through so much and the way Arthur looked at her, well, it would make anyone swoon to see someone so besotted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Merlin loved Arthur at all, then he would want him to be happy. There was no one else in the world that made Arthur as happy as Guinevere. Besides, Gwen was Merlin’s dearest friend. Who was he to deny either of them happiness? Who was he to come between them? He could live with a broken heart and a pair of petal-filled lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A month passed since Merlin had woken to the camellia on his pillow when he began to show signs again. The coughing came back. Small petals began to show up around his room. He could feel the tightness in his chest return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would get worse and worse, until suddenly, one morning he would wake up to a full flower. It wasn’t always a camellia. Sometimes it was a rose, or a carnation, or a tulip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin and Gaius began to record Merlin’s symptoms, but it did little to help. Merlin would go through these cycles, usually lasting about two months, before it started all over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made little sense, but one thing was certain: Merlin was still in love with a man who was happily in love with someone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until Merlin had gone to the Crystal Cave during the Battle of Camlann, that Merlin had truly understood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was disconcerting to learn he was immortal, to say the least. It was even more disconcerting to learn that he had already died, several times over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Merlin had not been going through cycles of the illness at all, but rather he had been contracting the disease, slowly declining, and then succumbing to it every two months, for years and years. The mornings in which he woke to a full flower on his pillow were not a sign of recovery but a sign that he had stopped breathing in the night, due to the flower finally overwhelming his lungs and heart. Followed by his magic reviving him in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To finally understand his illness had been relieving in a way, but it certainly wasn’t good news. It hadn’t mattered much at the time. He had been focused on getting to Arthur at the battlefield and then rushing to save Arthur’s life, one last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Merlin had held onto Arthur, in those final moments, his lungs had ached. He had held his own breath, refusing to overwhelm Arthur’s last moments with his coughing. Arthur deserved so much more than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until many hours later, while sitting by the Lake of Avalon, that Merlin realized his lungs were still aching. Arthur had been gone out of this world for hours and yet Merlin’s love for him had still not faded. Nor did Merlin think it ever would. So he supposed his love was more powerful than death. He had laughed, uselessly, tears rolling down his face, despite the fact that he couldn’t possibly have any more to spare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lungs ached with his weeping, but he couldn’t stop. Soon his sobs changed into a coughing fit, where Merlin spat out dozens and dozens of petals across the lake’s pristine surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a week to return to the citadel. He was without his horse and he hadn’t been able to take his cough suppressant for several days, and he was having trouble walking long distances, between his aching lungs and his broken heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Merlin understood that he had to give news of the King’s death, although he was certain that no one believed him to be alive. But Gwen deserved to know that her husband was gone, and she deserved to hear it from Merlin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, he hadn’t needed to say anything. He had walked to Camelot, feeling more like a ghost than a man. Then, at the base of the courtyard steps, Gwen had rushed to him, red velvet flying behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it was the look on his face. Perhaps she had already known. Perhaps it was the fact that he was alone, when she knew Merlin would never be without his King.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he felt awful for the way he clung onto her. He felt horrible for the sob that rose up in his throat. He felt disgusting for how grateful he was that he didn’t have to explain to her what had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he could manage to choke out was, “I’m so sorry, Gwen. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did all you could to protect him,” She said, between restrained hiccups. “I’m so grateful, Merlin, for all you have done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And this time, it wasn’t the flowers in his lungs that made his breath short. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin never did tell Gwen what her husband’s last words were. He would always feel guilty for it. He had told her some of what happened in those last few days, but she seemed to understand that those moments had been just between Merlin and Arthur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin had thought about leaving Camelot, and had attempted it on more than one occasion, but he always came back. Gwen had begged him to stay. After Gaius’ death, a few years after Gwen had become Queen Regent, Merlin had accepted Gwen’s offer to become the Royal Physician. She had repealed the ban on magic a few years after Arthur’s death, and she had offered him a spot on the council as a magical advisor, but Merlin had refused. Being an advisor would be too much like his role to Arthur, and he could barely stand looking at the round table as it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin watched Leon respectfully court Gwen, and Merlin was happy to see Gwen fall in love again. She was all grace and respect, taking five years to remarry. But no one was naïve. Gwen was almost thirty-five and if she wanted to produce heirs for Camelot, she needed to remarry sooner rather than later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin watched Gwen and Leon produce several little curly haired children. Merlin had always wondered if Arthur had inherited his father’s infertility. Seeing Gwen and Leon’s children confirmed his suspicions. He wondered what Arthur would have been like as a father. Likely he would have been terrified and overly cautious around the little ones. But he also would have been a good teacher and brave in the face of scraped knees and wounded hearts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Years and years later, the flowers in Merlin’s chest became a normal part of him, just like his blue eyes or pale skin. Dying every two months seemed like a perfectly normal part of his life. It had been twenty-five years since Arthur’s death. Merlin was fifty-two, and his brown hair was speckled with gray, although he knew it was only an illusion. He felt the aches in his bones that came with age, but he knew that he wasn’t aging in the same way as others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One evening, after Merlin had wrapped up Prince Morien’s sprained ankle with Gwen by his side, he had taken his evening dose of cough suppressant, like he always did. He hadn’t even thought about taking it in front of his Queen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen you take that before, Merlin. What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin looked down to the little potion and thought about the dozens of bottles that he kept in his cupboard, and how he had a routine of making a huge batch every two weeks. He had gotten so used to it over the years and that he had stopped trying to hide it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s for my cough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you always had that cough? I don’t recall it when we were young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was far too perceptive for him. If she had been the one with whom he had been in love, she would have figured it out long before now. Not that it would have changed true love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it, Gwen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, you know that </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> makes me worry,” She smiled, although there was something behind her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking about taking on an apprentice,” He said, apropos of nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So there can be someone when I’m gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin, you’re hardly </span>
  <em>
    <span>that old</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shook his head, sitting down beside her, “I should have told you a long time ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwen placed a soft hand on top of his, “I don’t like where this is going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to leave Camelot. I can’t stay here much longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin we’ve talked about this. I know it’s been hard for you since…” Gwen swallowed, and Merlin couldn’t watch her. It was so hard seeing his own grieving reflected in her expression. Except he didn’t have a right to Arthur, like Gwen did. Merlin may have been Arthur’s closest friend, but Merlin wasn’t his wife. Gwen should not have felt the need to comfort him, of all people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the Battle of Camlann,” Merlin started, “I discovered something about my magic that I haven’t told anyone. Only Gaius knew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that I am magic, more powerful than anyone,” Merlin said, not in a bragging way, but rather a matter-of-fact tone. He continued, “I am immortal. Every time I die, my magic heals and revives me. I will live long past you and your children, and I’m afraid even Camelot itself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every time you die? Oh, Merlin, please don’t tell me you have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin sighed, “I have an incurable illness. I’ve had it for years, since the last year of Uther’s reign. I hadn’t realized it was deadly until Camlann. I had only thought…Well, I had thought it was cyclical.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwen squeezed his hand, “What is this illness? Is it a curse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin gave a small laugh, that ended with a cough, as it usually did. Merlin shook his head, “It’s no curse, although it feels like it sometimes. But I can’t tell you. At least, not now. I will tell you the day I leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright…” She said, looking like she wanted to stay more, but restraining herself. “Alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed a kiss to his cheek and then she left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seven years later, Merlin’s apprentice had been fully trained and he was ready to take over for Merlin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that point, Merlin’s hair was mostly gray than brown at this point. With efficient hands, he packed up his things and looked at the rooms that he had called home for over fifty years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he went to Gwen’s chambers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her credit, she knew immediately why he was there when she saw the bag over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” She said, “I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t give me warning. Or else, I would have tried to stop you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know me well, Gwen.” Merlin opened his arms and she easily fell into them. He held her tight, resting his head on her hair for a moment before taking in a shaking breath. He let his magic wash over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Gwen pulled back, she gasped. “Oh, Merlin. Look at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could imagine what he looked like. A lanky bright-eyed lad of maybe twenty but more likely seventeen. His hair must be dark brown again and his skin clear of wrinkles. He smiled, hoping it would cheer her up. Her eyes were full of tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may be in my sixties, Gwen, but I am any age I wish to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is how I shall remember you,” She promised, “Just like the day I met you. All silly ears and covered in rotten fruit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” He said, no malice in his tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She touched his young face, her wrinkled hands warm on his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you tell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From his bag, Merlin produced a bright red rose. He had found it on his bed that morning. It was the best time to start his journey, when he was at his healthiest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have a name for it. There is only one other account that Gaius could find. In my chest, there is a flower growing in my lungs and around my heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin coughed, unable to stop himself. He hadn’t taken his cough suppressant that morning. He was rationing it, since he wouldn’t have the ease of making it every two weeks while he was travelling. He had better start getting used to the coughing now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small blue petal came away on his hand and he held it up to Gwen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What causes such a thing?” She reached out for the flower and Merlin gave it to her. Merlin had figured out a long time ago that roses felt the worst. The thorns caused the most pain as they wrapped around his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love, I’m afraid,” He said, with a tone he hoped sounded carefree, “Without it being requited, the patient will be overwhelmed by the flower in their chest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwen’s eyes snapped up to his, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted. He didn’t know if he wanted for her to have already known or for her to figure it out right then. He didn’t know if he wanted her pity or her anger. He certainly deserved the latter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even after death?” She whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin closed his eyes, the words punching what little air he had in his lungs. He took in as deep a breath as he could, feeling the familiar tickle in the back of his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As far as Merlin could tell, his illness worked via the inherent magic that lived in everyone. After Gaius had passed, he had only been able to find one other account of his illness from a roughly translated foreign scroll. It appeared that if the patient’s loved one died then the illness would also fade. Even if the patient still loved them after their death, the magic connecting them had not faded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even on Merlin’s darkest days when he believed he had been cursed to roam the Earth alone, the flowers in his chest reassured him that Arthur was meant to return. Because Arthur was laid to rest in Avalon, sleeping between life and death, they still had magic connecting them. In some ways, the flowers were a blessing, even if they were killing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems so,” Merlin gave a smile, although he didn’t think it looked anywhere close to happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Merlin, my dearest friend,” She held the flower close to her chest, “He loved you dearly. In his own way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. And he loved you with all his heart.” Despite holding himself back, he felt tears escape his eyes, “I want you to know that I…” He swallowed, feeling the petals get stuck in his throat, “I always wanted him to be happy, above all else. And you, Gwen, you always made him so blissfully happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwen smiled through her tears, “I know. I sometimes feel guilty with Leon…but I know Arthur would want me to be happy. He left Camelot to me and I had to do what was best for the Kingdom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you did,” Merlin said firmly, “Your children will be great leaders, just like their mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin picked up his bag and hefted it over his shoulder. His bones still felt old, but he certainly could tell that the muscles from his young were back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwen held the flower in a tight grip and Merlin could tell she was on the verge of tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She asked, “Do you think you will see him again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin sighed. He had asked himself that question every single day for decades now. “I don’t know. I was told that he would return, but it could be years. Centuries, even.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you do see him again, tell him…” She paused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gwen, he already knows how much you love him.” He said with a genuine laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not that,” Gwen smiled, her eyes crinkling with mirth. “I mean that you should tell him that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> love him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s throat closed and he felt the roots in his chest tighten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I will,” He said, not certain if he could contemplate the idea at the moment. “I suppose I have a long time to think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She touched his face one last time, “Goodbye, Merlin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek, “Goodbye, Gwen.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Merlin did not return to what would later be known as the British Isles for at least another hundred years. Instead, in those years he travelled across Europe, down to the Mediterranean, and over as far as western Asia. He travelled along Roman trade routes, as most did in those days, and he heard plenty of rumors about invasion back North, but he didn’t dare return. He was too afraid of seeing Gwen’s children or even recognizing her grandchildren. He had sworn he wouldn’t return until more generations passed, until he was nothing but a legend in their histories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he travelled, he stumbled across new lands, learned new languages (his magic assisting him when translation was futile), and found pockets of magic throughout the world. With practice, Merlin was able to detect the ley lines and magical centers throughout the world, as complex and intricate as a body’s circulatory system. Throughout the years, Merlin would settle down in those centers, where he would teach and train young sorcerers. He would also take his turn being the pupil, as many the people he came across used magic very differently than he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he never stayed for long. People would become suspicious of his never-changing age and it was too bothersome to slowly age himself with potions or enchantments. It didn’t matter much, because Merlin was never comfortable enough to settle down. The first two hundred odd years of his immortal life, he found he was unable to make any personal connections. He wasn’t a recluse. Far from it. He travelled the world and interacted with hundreds of people, but he never befriended them for longer than a year or so. In the grand scheme of things, it was only a blink of an eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was easier to hide his illness in these years. It wasn’t like Camelot, when he had friends who could tell when something was wrong. If he coughed a few times over dinner, appeared haggard while travelling, or had a few petals on his person, no one knew him well enough to question him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everywhere he went he would ask locals if they knew of a magical illness where the lungs filled with flowers, but only rarely did he find any accounts. It wasn’t until he travelled to Japan that he found a name for the illness. When Merlin had asked his teacher about the illness, he was given a scroll labeled, ‘Hanahaki,’ a combination of the words flower and vomit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin poured over scroll, going so far as to translate and transcribe it, so he could have several copies. Unfortunately, the scroll did not offer him any additional information. Merlin, as the longest ‘survivor’ of Hanahaki, knew more about the illness than anyone else.  He knew his options were either to fall out of love or have the love be requited.  At that point Merlin had been hundreds of years old and it almost seemed a little ridiculous to look for a cure when he had been coping with it for so long. He could barely remember what it was like without it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ache in his chest had become an old companion, just like everything else about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As time drew on, Merlin’s quest to teach and learn about magic around the world developed into a magical network. At first small and limited, and it eventually grew world-wide. Magic wasn’t as common in all parts of the world as it had been in Camelot, but in every land that Merlin had travelled, people knew of it, even if they had never met anyone with the gift. Sometimes Merlin would come across a whole community of sorcerers and sometimes he would find a sole sorcerer who had never had anyone to teach them. In either case, Merlin would offer to teach and exchange knowledge with anyone willing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the turn of the twentieth century, the world was a completely different place than it had been a thousand-five-hundred years prior, and the magical landscape had changed along with it. Magical creatures had receded back into desolate lands, some becoming extinct altogether.  Less people were born with innate magic, and those who did, could only perform basic spells. Although sorcery wasn’t lost to the world entirely, it was seen as an old and rare practice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin didn’t notice it at first, but as the twentieth century carried on, there was a slow but steady trend of magic returning to the world. There were more cases of magical creatures wandering into cities or popping up in well-populated hiking paths. More people were born with magic and much stronger than it had been even a generation or two before. Merlin found that his network was growing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the turn of the twenty-first century, Merlin had small flats in a few countries, in easy access to magical centers where he could help those in his network. But Merlin had found himself staying most of his time in what was now Wales. He tried not to think about where Camelot had been in this new landscape, but one thing was certain, he knew where the Lake of Avalon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t visit often, although ‘often’ was a relative term when one was immortal. Every few years he would find himself sitting on Avalon’s shores, feeling the deep thrum of magic. Every once and a while he could almost make out bits of Camelot (the smell of boot polish, the feel of rough wool, the sound of Arthur’s laugh). He never lingered long, since his illness always acted up around the Lake. He often would spit up petals onto the glassy still waters, his heart constricted by the roots, and he would have to leave before he died right then and there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin would never be able to describe how it happened or how it felt when Arthur returned. His magic swelled in his chest like it hadn’t done since that fateful day hundreds of years ago. In a way, it almost felt like he was suffocating, a feeling he knew all too well by that point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, before he could even question what was happening, there was a figure in the lake, slowly moving towards him. The sunlight reflected off his armor, a familiar looking sword at his hip, and a deep red of his cape was splayed out behind him as it dragged in the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin didn’t speak or even think any coherent words. With desperate movements, Merlin stumbled into the water, slogging through the mud that sucked at his boots, until he fell into Arthur’s arms. He clung on desperately, sobbing into his neck until he was barely able to breath at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Arthur was back, Merlin felt like his life was in focus again, as if his hundreds of years on Earth had been a blur. Before, every day seemed to pass in a second, and now, it was like his life was passing as normal speed again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin couldn’t say for certain why Arthur had returned. He wondered why now, after the world had been through so many things. Merlin had watched magic ebb from the world, like a slow bleeding wound. He had also seen the signs of its return in the last hundreds years and all signs seemed to point toward Arthur. Merlin didn’t know what the future had in store for them, but he knew he needed to prepare them both for it, whatever it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for Arthur, he described being in the Lake of Avalon as a dream. He had been conscious of time passing, and at the back of mind he could always feel Merlin’s magic, but he was not awake enough to know much else. It felt as if he had just woken from a long sleep and the modern world was a shock to his system.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin had a lot of work cut out for himself, to say the least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin spent most of Arthur’s first few weeks teaching him how to survive in the modern world. Merlin spoke so much that his sore throat, to which he had grown accustomed throughout his long life, was exacerbated to the point that he almost lost his voice. Eventually Merlin purchased a tablet and explained to Arthur how to search for information. It was useful, until he had to explain to Arthur that not everything that he found would be true, and then Merlin told him to only search online libraries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they weren’t talking about how the world had changed, Arthur would ask him about Camelot, and all that had happened after Arthur’s death. Merlin had certainly thought of Camelot many times over his life, but he had not spoken in detail about Camelot since he left, and it was like opening an old wound. For Merlin, it was eons ago. For Arthur, it felt like yesterday. They had a lot of work before they found a middle-ground, but as always, they persevered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Merlin knew it, six months had passed and Arthur had adjusted rather well, all things considered. Eventually they found a new rhythm to their lives. Merlin didn’t have a nine-to-five job, but he did work as a fiction writer occasionally and he often spent time working with his magical network. Arthur, of course, had never been good at sitting still, so Merlin had encouraged Arthur to join a local football group. Then, through his footie friends, Arthur found a part-time job at a local gym. They didn’t need the money, since Merlin’s house was paid for and he had saved up enough over time to live modestly, but it was good for Arthur to get out and meet people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in a long time, Merlin started to feel settled in a place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for his illness, it had almost drifted into the back of his mind. He hadn’t lived with another person in so long, especially someone who knew him well (and none as well as Arthur), but old habits began to form. He was almost surprised how easy it was to keep Arthur in the dark about his illness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin thought he would have been out of practice, but since most people didn’t know about Hanahaki, Merlin had been good at keeping it under the radar for hundreds of years. He wished he didn’t have to lie to Arthur again, but Arthur was new to this world. He had so much to learn and the last thing he needed was worrying about Merlin, or worse, feeling guilty over something that was out of his control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwen had advised Merlin to tell Arthur that he loved him, and over the last one-thousand-five-hundred years, when he laid awake at night, Merlin had considered it. The problem was that  when one was immortal, there was always time to delay or wait. There was always </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Arthur returned, Merlin told himself he would wait until Arthur was better settled and then he would explain it. In the back of his mind he knew that was just another excuse. It was the same tired excuse he had used to tell himself about hiding his magic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was never a good time to drop bad news.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin should have known that by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin should have told Arthur. Of course he should have. But Merlin had always been a coward. If Merlin knew anything about himself, it was that he was a liar and coward. All the scenarios Merlin had reviewed in his mind’s eye ended with Arthur feeling uncomfortable, betrayed, or worse, disgusted. Merlin couldn’t bear to lose Arthur just when he had gotten him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Merlin had delayed explaining his illness. He had taken his cough suppressants in secret. He cleaned up any petals and made sure to put more blooming flowers in the yard so he could play off any petals he missed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he hadn’t anticipated was Arthur being so close to him. They had always been close in Camelot. But here, in this small house, Arthur seemed to always be at Merlin’s side. He followed Merlin when they went into town. He was at Merlin’s side while he cooked and cleaned. Even when he was on his own, he was only a shout away from being right by Merlin’s side again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After so many years of solitude, it was more than a little overwhelming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one benefit was that with Arthur’s return, his symptoms seemed to ease, if only by a fraction. Merlin couldn’t tell if it was Arthur’s presence or just the fact that he had become so accustomed to his illness that he had stopped thinking so much about it. He had never been so busy in years, every day was filled with teaching Arthur the wonders of the modern world and recounting his deeds back in Camelot and in the years after Camlann. It was exhausting in the best kind of way, but Merlin didn’t have much time to think about anything else, much less an illness he had adjusted to hundreds of years ago. He figured his stamina must have improved over the years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another side effect of Arthur’s presence was that Merlin’s cycles had gotten longer and longer. Arthur had emerged from the lake about half-way through a cycle that had ended up lasting sixty-five days, which was about standard. Then the next was seventy. And this continued for the first year, until Merlin’s cycles were almost three months long, which had never happened, even when he had lived in Camelot.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin was the only patient to ever have survived Hanahaki, so it was impossible to say why it was happening. Merlin attributed it to Arthur’s return and Merlin’s age, because Merlin had hardly stopped loving Arthur. If anything, he felt like his love was just as strong as it had been Camelot, if not tenfold. Without the barriers of destiny and duty, they were free to be closer than they ever could have been in Camelot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the hundreds of years, Merlin could count on one hand the number of times someone had been with him when he had woken up to a full flower on his pillow. He had many years of practice hiding secrets, and although he travelled the world befriending strangers and learning from all sorts of people, he had never gotten close to anyone before. He had a few ships passing in the night. A few close friends. But his heart could only bear so much heartbreak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obviously, he had never seen what happened when the flowers suffocated him, but those few people had described it to him. Apparently, he was pale and stiff, in the same exact way one would find a recently deceased person. His mouth was always open with one or several flowers coming out of his mouth. His face had been a bluish tint, from the lack of oxygen-rich blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only one person had seen his magic revive him. She had told him that she was about to cover his body with a sheet when a golden light started at his core and spread throughout his body. It disintegrated the roots and flowers coming out of his mouth, but anything that had already fallen away, stayed on Merlin’s pillow. She told him that Merlin had laid still for a moment before waking up with a deep breath, as if he had just woken from a deep sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a gruesome sight to behold, and Merlin never wanted anyone to find him like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Especially not Arthur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seventy-three days since he had last found a full flower on his pillow, Merlin woke up to the familiar tingling that Merlin now associated with his magic reviving him after having passed away in the middle of the night. He took a deep breath and felt air fill his lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then his other senses awoke, and he was aware of several things at once: someone was holding him and that someone was sobbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin blinked open his eyes and tried to orient himself. It was always a slow process on these mornings, as if his eyes and ears were learning how to function again. He felt arms around his chest and puffs of heavy breathing next to his ear. He heard choked off sounds and from the way Merlin was lying, all he could see was a bit of blond hair and the slowly turning ceiling fan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur was clinging onto him, painfully tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arthur,” He croaked, a few petals still in his throat. He shushed him hoarsely, reaching out a hand to touch Arthur’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin,” Arthur’s head jerked up. His eyes, red and swollen as they were, widened. Merlin didn’t want to think about how long he had been like this. He never knew how long he was ‘out’ but it had to have been at least an hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here, Arthur. I’m sorry. I’m here,” Merlin shushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What- I don’t understand,” Arthur swallowed, blinking down at Merlin. His hand ran over Merlin’s face, “You were…Your mouth…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Merlin croaked. He coughed and felt a petal stick to his lip, and Arthur’s eyes drifted to it, looking far more frightened than Merlin had even seen him. Merlin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, clearing away the evidence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were gone,” Arthur’s voice was shaking, “I thought I’d lost you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Merlin could so much as process those words, let alone reply, Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin, and he continued to cry. Merlin didn’t say anything, because if he knew anything about Arthur, it was that as soon as he pointed out that Arthur was having any kind of emotion, he would bottle it up. So Merlin let him cry, holding onto him just as tightly as Arthur was, despite the fact that his ribs ached under the pressure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a long while, Arthur had worn himself out and he laid in the bed next to Merlin. Without thinking about it, Merlin brushed the hair from Arthur’s eyes and whispered a calming spell over him, letting him drift off into a dreamless sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew Arthur had been adapting to the modern world well, but Merlin wasn’t fool enough to think it was easy for Arthur. He had been sleeping poorly and this would likely make it much worse. Might as well give him some rest while he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin rose to his feet and started his day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hours later, Arthur crashed into the kitchen, looking at Merlin with wild eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re…awake,” Arthur said tentatively, eyes evaluating Merlin critically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin nodded. He gestured to the kitchen table, “Sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur, for once in his life, obeyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to tell me what the hell happened this morning?” Arthur said, sounding a horrible mix of angry and desperate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin tried to be quick as possible, like ripping off a bandage.  “I have a magical illness. In Japan they call it Hanahaki. There isn’t an English name for it. It’s too rare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur stayed quiet, but his fingers were tapping on the table nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin fell back on his medical training, feeling it easier to explain as if it were a lesson, rather than a personal story. “The patient develops a plant in their chest. The roots fill the lungs and the plant wraps around the heart. The flowers and stems obstruct the trachea until the patient cannot breathe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The patient…” Arthur sneered, “So what…You choke on flowers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin gave a small laugh, “Essentially.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this morning? When I found you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. You should have never seen me like that.” Merlin set down his tea and rubbed his temple. He already felt a headache forming. “The illness cycles about every two months, but because I’m immortal, my magic brings me back for the cycle to start all over again,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur looked appalled. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span> every two months?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shrugged. He had gotten used to it. He knew it was grotesque, but it was his life. It had been a thousand years. What other life had he known?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no cure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin bit his lip, trying to decide whether he should lie to Arthur or not. Ever since Arthur had returned, he had tried to be as honest as possible. This was his second chance, after all. Arthur deserved honesty from Merlin. But after having lived over a thousand years, Arthur seemed so…young. Merlin had gotten accustomed to certain things, things that most people would find traumatic and horrendous, and Merlin didn’t want to scare Arthur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is a cure,” Merlin said, “But it’s not easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur frowned, “You’re not one to back down from a challenge. It must really be impossible if you can’t do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin wanted to preen at the praise, but the reality was that Merlin had no control over the cure. Merlin gave a half-hearted smile and shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did this happen? How long have you been…?” Arthur asked, looking so sincere and worried, that Merlin’s heart clenched in his chest, despite the fact that the roots in his lungs were too new to have grown around his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin looked down, wanting to lie. He wanted to pretend like he had caught this disease in the twelfth century. He wanted to tell Arthur that it had only been a few hundred years. Grotesque to anyone else, it was nowhere as bad as the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t…” A look of realization came over Arthur’s face. “Merlin, you didn’t keep this from me since Camelot, did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a disease linked to my magic. I didn’t have a choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve had this since </span>
  <em>
    <span>Camelot</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Arthur yelled, getting to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The year before you became King,” Merlin said, softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur looked livid. Merlin didn’t blame him. He had withheld this information for this exact reason, knowing Arthur would be hurt and angry. Of course, he had every right to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So for years, you would wake up after having </span>
  <em>
    <span>died</span>
  </em>
  <span> and then come to wake me up and dress me and serve me breakfast? And you never told me?” Arthur said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was I supposed to do Arthur? I had flowers coming out of my throat! Of course it was magic!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur looked ready to fight him on it, but he held his tongue. Merlin knew it was a low blow. Arthur still felt guilty about all he had done and all he hadn’t done in his first life. He wasn’t the only one, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t even tell me when…after Camlann…” Arthur croaked out. They hadn’t talked about those last days. It was too much, even for them. “I thought we had said our peace, Merlin. I thought that was behind us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shook his head, swallowing past his dry throat. “There are a lot of things I’ve done, Arthur… I’ve lived so long. You have to know that you can never know everything that’s ever happened to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But this was before then, Merlin…” Arthur huffed, rubbing his forehead, “It doesn’t matter. What’s the point? We can’t change the past.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you can’t,” Merlin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I need to take a walk…” Arthur said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin nodded, “I’ll have all the information on Hanahaki for you when you return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur gave him an indecipherable look, before he picked up his jumper, grabbed the keys from the hook, and walked out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On shaky legs Merlin sank to the floor, head between his knees. His lungs might have been in the best state they would ever be in, but that didn’t mean crying didn’t hurt. His lungs ached as he pulled in deep breaths and he felt lightheaded as the tears ran down his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated fighting with Arthur, always had. Nothing could hurt him more than Arthur in pain and knowing he had caused that harm was the worst feeling in the world. He let out a cough and a few small round buds climbed up his throat. It was far too soon for petals and tight chests, but he could still feel the plant in his chest, a constant ache that would never go away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was getting bad enough that he could tell he was going to start hyperventilating if he didn’t stop soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With practiced ease, Merlin flicked open his palm, feeling the pulse of a single flame in the center of his hand. He forced himself to watch it flicker then he blew it out. He did it again, counting the seconds and forcing himself to breath with the flame. Eventually he slumped against the kitchen counter, waving away the flame and just cradling his head in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had gotten too complacent. He had gotten so focused on Arthur that he hadn’t been thinking about his lungs. He should take better care of himself, he thought with too much bitterness. Just because it wouldn’t kill him didn’t mean he didn’t need to be healthy. If something were to happen to him, what then? It was a dangerous thought to go down, and one Merlin wasn’t ready for at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled himself up and decided to take a shower and start his day over again. Arthur still wasn’t back by the time Merlin finished his shower and pulled out his laptop. So he started to compile a quick handful of documents and accounts of Hanahaki. Then he left them by the front door where he knew Arthur would see them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he picked up his gardening hat and went outside. At least there were some flowers he had control over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour or so later, Merlin was elbow deep in soil and had more or less let his thoughts fade into the background. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur silently sat down on the brick wall next to Merlin’s flower bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin didn’t know how long he had been back or if he had read the information he had printed out, but if Arthur was silent, it meant he was still thinking everything over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin wiped his hands on his jeans, tipped his hat back, and looked up at Arthur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur was sitting with his arms crossed and back against the brick wall, a bit of white printer paper visible out of his pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin could think of a million different things to say. But he couldn’t get them out of his mouth. All he could focus on was that Arthur’s sudden hesitance had to do with the fact that he now knew that Merlin was in love. Merlin could imagine that was the last thing on Arthur’s mind when he picked up the information Merlin had left for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still furious with you,” Arthur said, shifting awkward, eyes looking around Merlin but not at him, “You don’t have to tell me every second of your life. That being said, I would like to be informed if you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>ill</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Merlin. I can’t believe I have to say that.” Arthur said through gritted teeth. “I thought you trusted me this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… Arthur, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust you,” Merlin said, feeling like he was already going to lose this argument. “It’s not that easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a child, Merlin. You don’t have to protect me from everything,” Arthur snapped, clearly still as angry as he said he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin nodded, “I’m sorry. It’s just…It’s not easy after hiding for so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With bated breath Merlin waited for the question he knew was on Arthur’s mind at that moment. For a second it looked like Arthur was going to ask it too, his mouth opening. Merlin pictured him saying ‘Who are you in love with?’ or ‘Are they dead?’ or even worse ‘Is it me?’ But he didn’t say any of those things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur sighed, tipping his head against the brick wall. “Can we forget about this for now? I’m exhausted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin nodded, “I’ll make dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, order it,” Arthur snapped, “You’ve done enough today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin collected his gardening tools and Arthur, to Merlin’s surprise, picked up his gardening basket and offered Merlin a hand. With a grateful smile, Merlin took it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They tip-toed around each other for a week or so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then they seemed to get back into their previous rhythm. It wasn’t like old times, since Arthur had only been back for less than a year, but it was close enough that Merlin could feel himself relaxing again. Arthur never asked who Merlin loved and Merlin never brought up the illness if he could help it. They seemed to do well ignoring it for the most part. Arthur went to the gym a few times a week and Merlin was often on conference calls with people wanting to learn magic. It was always the elephant in the room, but they had always been good at pretending things were fine when they weren’t. Old habits die hard, Merlin had learned a long time ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as time moved on, so did Merlin’s illness. And now that Arthur knew, he seemed to be picking up on every single detail. The watery eyes. The coughing. The petals scattered about the house. The pills in the morning and evening. The constant rotation of warm tea with honey. The cough drops and tissues scattered around the house, in easy reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Merlin, it was just his normal routine, but he was seeing it with new eyes. Arthur started making Merlin his tea and then reheating it when Merlin had let it sit too long. Merlin also noticed Arthur’s messy handwriting on the shopping list, reading ‘tea’ and ‘honey.’ When Merlin coughed, Arthur was right by his side to check on him, even if Arthur had been on the opposite side of the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin was also aware of how accustomed he had gotten to hiding his illness. Every morning he wiped away petals from his bed and took out the trash as often as possible, so no one would see the petals. How many times had he blamed the pollen for his watery eyes? When they had gone on a walk through the park, Merlin had caught himself halfway through an excuse, when he stopped, gave a half-hearted smile to Arthur, and wiped his eyes wordlessly. Arthur had frowned at him and hadn’t said much for the rest of the walk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was over two-months later that the coughing and wheezing became too much to cover, especially when Arthur was watching him like a hawk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin had another coughing fit in the middle of making dinner, and he had vomited a bouquet’s worth of petals into the sink. As he tried to breath, the pain pierced him through the chest and he felt Arthur’s hand on his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin nodded, unable to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur quickly poured a glass of water and stuck it under his nose. Merlin took it gratefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve read about medicine you can inhale…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shook his head, cutting him off. “Inhalers don’t work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur took the glass with a quick hand and refilled it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin wanted to laugh at him. Arthur was not exactly the caring-nurse type. When it came to solving problems, Arthur was always better fighting or negotiating. But Arthur couldn’t punch or argue his way out of this one, and Merlin could tell it bothered him how useless he was. Now, he looked rather uncomfortable as he shifted his weight back and forth, as if reading himself to fight. Merlin appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s next sentence was horribly stilted, “Will you tell me when it’s bad again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Merlin asked, popping a cough drop into his mouth. Medically speaking, they didn’t actually do much, but they made him feel better which was sometimes half the battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know when, you know, it’s going to happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin realized Arthur was asking if he knew when the illness would kill him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Usually,” Merlin said cautiously, “I know the cycle well enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you tell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin hesitated, not sure what Arthur was getting at, but not wanting Arthur to think he was lying to him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I want to be there when it happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin blanched, “No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s eyes continued to bore into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Merlin snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have other people seen it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few. Never on purpose,” Merlin said, “I wouldn’t subject anyone to that, Arthur.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If looks could kill, Merlin thought. Arthur stepped into his space, eyes so sharp Merlin was certain that if Arthur had magic, he would have snapped Merlin in half.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s call it returning the favor,” Arthur said, and then turned on his heel, and left before Merlin could protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin could almost feel the roots sink further into his lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They continued their routine for another few weeks, although Arthur started refusing to let Merlin do anything too taxing on his lungs and heart. It would be annoying, but it had been so long since someone had taken care of him, that Merlin found himself indulging him. The flowers in his chest seemed to like it as well because it took a full ninety-one days for him to feel like the flower was going to overtake him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin had been avoiding Arthur all day, but that was mostly because Merlin had spent most of the day reading old books in bed. Arthur had come in periodically to refresh his tea, but Merlin had heard him go out for a run in the afternoon, so he knew Arthur hadn’t been sitting outside his door all day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the evening, Merlin’s heart rate increased dramatically. Part of it was knowing that if he didn’t tell Arthur, he would be furious with him again, and part of it was knowing that either way, Arthur would be watching over him tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arthur,” Merlin croaked and realized his throat was too sore to shout. With a quick spell, Merlin conjured up a paper airplane and sent it through the house looking for Arthur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A minute later, Arthur was leaning against his doorway with the plane in hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t yell,” Merlin said, sounding more like a croaking toad than a man. His breathing was shallow and talking hurt far more than he liked to admit. Merlin might have gotten used to the pain, but that didn’t mean the pain had diminished over time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, Merlin hadn’t needed to say anything. Arthur stepped forward, taking Merlin’s empty tea mug and asked, “Do you need any medicine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shook his head, “Already took it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Arthur said, “I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur left and Merlin heard the kitchen sink and some clanking. Then Arthur’s feet padded across the hall and Merlin heard the shuffle of drawers and the click of the bathroom door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin must have dozed off for a bit, because when he came to, Arthur was moving the books off Merlin’s bed and setting them on the floor, next to the dozens of piles around the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really need to clean this place, Merlin,” Arthur jested. Merlin wanted to tease him back about having never cleaned a room in his entire life but talking sounded far too painful at the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need another pillow?” Arthur asked, his voice unbearably soft. Merlin wanted to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead he just shook his head, ignoring the way the room spun. He could tell he was already not getting enough oxygen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur hesitated by the bed for a few moments. There was a chair in the corner of Merlin’s room, and he could have pulled it up next to the bed, but Merlin was also lying in the center of the bed. Arthur must have come to the same conclusion, because he tentatively sat down next to Merlin, back against the headboard. Slowly, as if he didn’t know how to move his own hands, he touched Merlin’s brow, brushing back Merlin’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you do it, Merlin?” Arthur asked, and by his tone Merlin could tell that he didn’t want an answer. “How can you be so strong and brave all on your own?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin closed his eyes, hoping no tears would escape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you would just let me help,” Arthur whispered, his tone verging on furious rather than comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin pulled in a breath, but it stung, and he started to cough, petals covering the entire bed. Arthur tried to hand him a glass of water, but Merlin pushed him off. He knew from experience he needed to cough. Drinking would only push the petals down his throat and choke him. Instead, Arthur slipped behind him, holding him up from behind, one hand splayed over his chest. Merlin reached out and covered the hand with his own. Merlin realized with a sudden pang, that it was the exact same position he had held Arthur in his last breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a long while, when Merlin felt like he might pass out from lack of air, the coughing finally subsided. They sat in silence for a long while, the only sound Merlin’s wheezing breath. Arthur’s chest was moving slowly and steadily underneath Merlin’s back, in harsh contrast to Merlin’s shuddering breaths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a shallow breath, Merin licked his dry lips and then croaked out, “You already had so many burdens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur turned so that he could look Merlin in the eye. His eyes were shining, making the blue look even brighter. He had that pinched look on his face that Merlin knew meant he was trying to control his expression and failing miserably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t a burden, Merlin,” Arthur’s throat clicked. Merlin felt his fingers squeezing Merlin’s shoulder, painfully tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s eyes closed, too exhausted to keep them opened. Then he slipped into sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His magic tingled, starting at his center and spreading out across his body. He took in a deep breath and felt all his other sense awaken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he opened his eyes, he found that Arthur was still in his bed. The circles under his eyes were dark and his eyes were rimmed with red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wordlessly, he handed Merlin a warm cup of tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin sat up slowly, shaking his limbs lightly to wake them, before taking the tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he had taken a sip, Arthur held out a bundle of bright blue forget-me-nots. Merlin took it tentatively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin cleared his dry throat, “Do you want to talk about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not particularly,” Arthur did not look Merlin in the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Merlin sipped his tea again, feeling a petal stick to the inside of his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to take a shower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin nodded, watching Arthur get out of bed and then close the door behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, fresh air entered his lungs, and Merlin fell back into the bed. He wondered how long Arthur would insist on staying on these nights and how many times Merlin could take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t talk about it again, of course. They would go through hell and highwater together, and then they would never speak of it again. Merlin had never been able to tell if that was because it was easier to pour out your heart when it felt like the last chance to do so, or if it was because they both silently understood each other. It might have been a bit of both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For example, Merlin understood that Arthur had watched Merlin die that night. He understood that it was probably Arthur’s worst nightmare. But he also knew that it was a lot easier to say how much you care about someone, when you’re not certain if they will wake up again. For a moment, Merlin wondered what would happen if their places were reversed and it was Arthur dying in his arms again, knowing that it would happen again in two months’ time. He wasn’t sure he could manage it. Merlin also wasn’t sure Arthur was managing either but asking Arthur about it was the easiest way to get him to clam up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he pretended like everything was the same. Arthur continued to make Merlin tea, handing him the occasional cough drop, but they avoided talking about that night at all costs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went back to their routine, Merlin worked on his next book and consulted with his magic network. Arthur continued studying the new world, going to his footie meet-ups, and working at the gym. It was impossible to avoid each other, but even if they wanted to, they never tried. They always ate dinner together and they often found themselves sitting on the sofa, watching a film or reading together. Sometimes Merlin would do some magic, at Arthur’s request, and they would just talk about everything they could think of for hours on end. Sometimes Merlin liked to pretend he was a normal twenty-eight-year-old man who lived with his best friend. It wasn’t far off from the truth, even if reality was much more complicated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until several weeks later, after Merlin had had a minor coughing fit (nothing more than a few petals escaped him) that Arthur had asked, “How many days has it been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin looked at the calendar on the fridge door and was surprised that he had to flip it over three times before he came across the date circled in red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” Merlin said, wondering how he hadn’t noticed. He had gotten so used to feeling his symptoms worsen, relying on his body to tell him when it was going to get worse, he hadn’t noticed how long it had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weird, it’s almost like…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin felt a tingle run down his spine. Somehow, he felt both hot and cold at once. He couldn’t stop looking at the little red circle on the calendar. ‘It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be’ his mind chanted over and over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to Arthur, who was frowning at him. He was in the middle of making Merlin a cup of tea, his hand paused in the middle of stirring in the honey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Arthur’s stance shifted, almost like he might pull a sword to defend them in the next second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One hundred days,” Merlin said. It had been over three months and Merlin still felt like he was in the first few weeks. A few petals appeared on his pillow. A few coughing fits. A bit of watery eyes. But he was nowhere near the faint-inducing tightening in his chest that he usually felt at this stage in his illness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s way more than two months,” Arthur said, sounding stumped. “Did you read it wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shook his head, trying to focus on the moment, afraid he might spiral if he thought too hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Arthur asked, guiding him to the kitchen chair, “You seemed to be doing so well.” Arthur set the tea on the kitchen table next to Merlin. “It’s almost like it’s not there at all.” As soon as the words were out of Arthur’s mouth, it seemed to trigger something in him. He blinked a few times and then his brow furrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said it’s almost always been every two months,” Arthur said, almost to himself, “Since Camelot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About sixty days, more or less,” Merlin said, raising a hand to his forehead. He wasn’t feeling ill, but he suddenly felt clammy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But last time you said it was almost ninety days,” Arthur said, not really a question but still waiting for Merlin to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been more and more times between cycles,” Merlin said, not adding the implied ‘since you came back.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that doesn’t make sense, all the information you gave me said it was incurable except if…” Arthur stopped himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur looked like he was the one choking this time. “But you’ve had this since Camelot. No one from Camelot is left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin gave him a sad smile. “That’s not exactly true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur looked pale as a sheet. He leaned against the kitchen counter for support and Merlin could see that Arthur’s hands were shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that means…” Arthur looked just as out of breath as Merlin felt. “But I thought…the girl you mentioned, Freya. Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gwaine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Although he wouldn’t have denied you anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin wanted to smile or laugh, but when he tried to turn his lips up, he just grimaced, a shaky breath coming out of him. With a short cough, a red petal fell from his mouth and landed on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur stared at it with horror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s face had changed from pale to red with fury. “I don’t understand. You were my best friend. My </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> friend for years! How was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> not enough?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shook his head, “Platonic love can’t cure Hanahaki, no matter how important or deeply felt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s- This is just-!” Arthur sputtered, looking like he was about to punch the wall, “This is stupid. I may have never said it, but I do love you! That had to be obvious!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s heart stuttered, but it was too much for his mind to take. He spoke on rote instead, “Saying the words isn’t enough, the person must actually reciprocate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur looked dizzy, a shaking hand going to his forehead. Merlin could tell that he was replaying all of Camelot, going over every instance and every word. Merlin wished he didn’t have to keep dropping these things on Arthur, but there was never a good time to tell someone you had been in love with them for over a thousand years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t your fault,” Merlin said, knowing that was exactly what Arthur was thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is it not?” Arthur’s voice hit a new high. “Merlin, I watched you </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I watched you </span>
  <em>
    <span>suffocate</span>
  </em>
  <span> in your sleep and flowers crawl out of your mouth like they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Arthur’s eyes were firm on Merlin’s, but Merlin could tell that in Arthur’s mind’s eye, that night was as clear as if it were happening right in front of him. “And now you’re telling me it’s my fault?” Arthur’s voice verged on hysterical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Merlin snapped, his hand coming down harder on the kitchen table than he meant. He winced and held up his hands apologetically. “This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> your fault. I told you that I wouldn’t change a thing, and I meant it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur did not look mollified, to say the least. Arthur had never dealt with emotions well. He had always been a brilliant strategist, a great fighter, and a gracious King, but he struggled with a problem he couldn’t tackle head-on. He couldn’t solve Merlin’s broken heart. Some things were just a bit more complicated than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This has always been my choice,” Merlin said calmly, watching Arthur carefully. “I may not have made any conscious choice. I don’t think anyone does. I think I was just walking along and then all of a sudden I saw you at that dust-covered round table, ready to take back your Kingdom with nothing but a group of loyal friends, and I knew. I just knew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s eyes widened, and it looked like he wasn’t breathing at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin continued, “When we all stood around that table and you told me that I didn’t have a choice, I thought I would always choose you. Every single time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur let out a shuddering breath, hands curled around the kitchen counter, his knuckles white.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long pause and Merlin felt the energy between both of them settle into a restless silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…I’m a bit confused.” Arthur swallowed thickly, “I need time to think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin nodded. “I’ll leave. I’m going to take a walk down to the bakery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually Arthur was the one to stomp out of the house, but Merlin felt like he was going to go wild if he didn’t get out of the house and Arthur looked more likely to faint than run at this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he came back from the bakery, he felt a little better, although he wasn’t sure how he could feel perfect after such an exhausting afternoon. He doubted Arthur was doing much better. Merlin looked throughout the house and yard for him, but Arthur wasn’t home. Merlin didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin took the bread and other pastries he had bought into the kitchen and started making dinner. He let his magic loose, deciding it needed a bit of exercise after such a stressful day. His mind blank, his magic reached out to wash the dishes sitting in the sink, opening the fridge to retrieve a roast and various vegetables, and then pull out the pots and pans from the cabinets. All the while, Merlin started organizing the kitchen, while keeping half his attention on his magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t notice Arthur sit down at the kitchen table half an hour later. He had gotten used to Arthur watching him make dinner or linger near him while he did his daily chores. At first it was because Arthur needed to learn the ways of the modern world, and then it seemed like he just wanted to be nearby. Merlin didn’t want to think too hard about the latter part.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Merlin spotted him, his magic froze all the dishes and food in mid-air for a single second, before Merlin shook himself out of it and continued on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur cleared his throat as Merlin finally finished, closing the oven door with a click.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was the bakery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I picked up some croissants,” Merlin said, eyes flicking over to Arthur for a moment. “Did you go on a walk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin tried not to sigh. It seemed they were going to fall back on their faithful system of not talking about it. Part of Merlin wanted to get all the questions and yelling over with now, but Merlin knew it wasn’t that easy. He had been living with this knowledge for literally over a thousand years. It was brand new information to Arthur, and he deserved some time to process it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a stilted and slow night that dragged on for hours. They ate dinner and then Merlin went to read in the sitting room, followed by Arthur who ended up doing some more research on his tablet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was late into the night, a little past midnight, when Merlin shut his book, stretching his arms above his head and feeling his spine straighten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he looked up to tell Arthur that he should go to bed, he saw that Arthur was curled up in the armchair, tablet off, and his head resting on the armchair’s wing. He wondered why Arthur hadn’t just gone to bed, since he couldn’t have possibly wanted to awkwardly sit with Merlin all night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin took the tablet and set it on the coffee table. Merlin whispered two spells, one to ease Arthur’s sleep and the second to lighten Arthur. Then he picked him up. Arthur was much larger than Merlin, but with the spell it wasn’t too difficult to cradle Arthur to his chest and walk to his bedroom. He settled Arthur on his bed and then he laid the blanket over him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin shut the door behind him, but he didn’t go to his bedroom across the hall. He didn’t feel like sleeping at the moment and did not trust his dreams, so he went back into the sitting room and popped open an old magical text that he hadn’t read in a while. After living a thousand years, missing a single night’s rest did little to harm him. It was only after a few nights without sleep that he would start feeling run down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost four in the morning, Merlin was halfway through his book, when he heard Arthur’s door open. The bathroom door opened and closed, and he heard water running a few minutes later. Merlin was surprised Arthur was awake, since normally it would take a whole village to wake him. Merlin smiled despite himself, thinking of all the mornings he had had to physically drag Arthur out of bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you still awake?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin looked up from his book to find Arthur leaning against the doorway, only in his sleep flannel pajama bottoms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin nodded, “Didn’t feel like sleeping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur, to Merlin’s further surprise, sat down in the armchair again, pulling a blanket over himself. “Cold in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin wanted to tell him to go put on a shirt if the temperature was bothering him, but after this afternoon, he didn’t think it was a good idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did I get to the bed?” Arthur asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Magic. I can’t exactly lift you on my own.” Merlin said, not looking Arthur in the eye. “You’d be a pain tomorrow if you didn’t get proper sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Arthur didn’t answer, Merlin was forced to look up, finding Arthur’s eyes intent on him, his brows pinched. He looked rather sad, and Merlin wanted to wipe that all away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you never tell me?” Arthur whispered the age-old question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What could I have possibly said, Arthur?” Merlin whispered back, tracing a finger over the illustration in his book. “What good would it have done? Would it have changed anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur ran a hand over his hair, “I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Gwen were in love. I wanted you to be with Gwen, never think otherwise.” Merlin emphasized, “I never wanted you to act differently around me, or worse, pity me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, the more I know you, Merlin, the less I seem to understand,” Arthur shook his head, “You watched me court Guinevere. Hell, you were the one who told me to propose. You set up the room for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin smiled, remembering the memory fondly. Despite what Arthur may think, Merlin had always been happy for his friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could have never done that. When Morgana’s shade and Guinevere…” Arthur stopped, pausing for a long time as he seemed to remember all that mess had entailed, before he continued on with a short sigh. “I could never do what you’ve done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think he was particularly strong or brave. In fact, most of the time his subconscious whispered that he was a coward over and over again. He knew it wasn’t exactly true, but it didn’t stop him from feeling it sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was always a chance that you could have told me, and I could have…</span>
  <em>
    <span>helped</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You wouldn’t have had to suffer,” Arthur's lips were pulled down, and his hands gripped the soft blanket far too tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Merlin said firmly. “You couldn’t have. You can’t just decide to fall in love with someone. If you had tried to force yourself, out of pity, it would have never worked. That’s not how love works, surely you know that. If that was the case you would have married a Princess, and you never would have fought for Gwen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur looked away, obviously upset with this answer, but not having any counterpoint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin sighed. He shut his book and set it on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no use going over what we could have done. Believe me,” Merlin said, unable to hide the sadness in his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what about now?” Arthur asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Merlin said evenly, trying not to raise his voice despite the emotion he was feeling. “Don’t try to force your emotions one way or another. It’s fruitless. I’ve dealt with this for a thousand years and I can handle it for a thousand more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not exactly like I have a choice,” Arthur said, still not looking Merlin in the eye. “I didn’t even know… until today. I wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do anything and then…” Arthur let out a long breath, slumping back into the chair, his head tilted to the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you, Arthur. You would do anything to save someone,” Merlin whispered, “But not this. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can cure you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Arthur said, his eyes squeezed shut. “I already was curing you. I just didn’t know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s heart tightened in his chest. They were talking around it and it seemed like the only way they could at the moment. Merlin didn’t know if Arthur had it in him right now to say, ‘I was falling in love with you and I didn’t realize it until today.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, we can just leave it be, yeah?” Merlin said with finality. “You’re still adjusting. I can deal with my Hanahaki just fine. I always have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur looked like he wanted to argue, but he also looked exhausted. Arthur was never good without a full night’s rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin stood up and offered his hand to Arthur. “Come on, off to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur raised a brow, “You’re not going to carry me again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin felt his cheeks flush, and Arthur seemed to realize that his tone was more flirtatious then he meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is going to be awkward, isn’t it?” Arthur said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve weathered worse. Remember the goblin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur shuddered, “Don’t remind me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he took Merlin’s hand and pulled himself out of the armchair. Before he pulled away, he squeezed Merlin’s fingers, once, twice, three times before he let his hand slip out of Merlin’s and he walked to his bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even after the door had shut behind him, Merlin laid in his own bed, trying and failing not to read too much into the action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the evenings, even on days where they had spent the entire day together, they would still find themselves in the sitting room. Sometimes Merlin would find a classic film to show Arthur, so he could understand the cultural zeitgeist. Sometimes Merlin would sit on the sofa reading a magical text and Arthur would be skimming an article on his tablet. Sometimes they would switch things up and Merlin would work on his laptop and Arthur would flip through Merlin’s various magical tomes, scrolls, and grimoires. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter what they did, these evening rituals were always in place. In the beginning of the evening, it would be like a rigid schedule as they worked on their respective tasks. But as time passed, all semblance of decorum would fade. Merlin would slouch in his spot until he was practically a ball of limbs. Arthur would interrupt Merlin every few minutes with a question or a comment. But it was all a facade. They did these things in the early evening for one purpose, and that was so that after they put away their books, laptops, or turned off the film, they could sit together on the sofa and talk into the wee hours of morning. Merlin would have his legs tucked under himself and Arthur’s arm would be resting on Merlin’s thigh as he leaned back, his legs resting on the coffee table. On those nights, in the dim light of a single antique lamp, Merlin would almost feel like he had been transported back to the woods outside of Camelot, where they would have sat around a fire and spoken in hushed voices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One evening, after having watched a film, they found themselves sitting on the sofa, but this time, neither seemed to have anything to say. During the film, Merlin had laid flat. Merlin was too tall for such a position, even if the sofa had been larger than it was. Instead Merlin had found himself using Arthur’s lap as a footrest, which Arthur had snorted at but hadn’t protested. When the credits rolled across the screen, they found that they had sunk into their positions, so that Merlin’s thighs were in Arthur’s lap and Arthur’s upper body was leaning into the cushions so that he was pressed along Merlin’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laid there in silence for a long while, and it took Merlin’s a little too long to notice that they were just starting at each other, not saying anything. Merlin had been indulging in the warmth of Arthur’s thighs under his own, wondering how being this close to Arthur felt so natural. In Camelot Arthur rarely showed any physical affection that wasn’t a pat on the back or a punch to the shoulder. Of course, Merlin had also seen how Arthur had doted on Gwen, pulling her into his arms when she was worried, pressing kisses to her brow in the morning, or holding her hand at dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin pulled in a breath, anticipating the flowers to tickle his throat or for a cough to interrupt their companionable silence, as was common when he thought of Arthur loving another. But nothing came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s breathing had been slowly improving over the last few weeks, although he tried not to think too much about it. But as he waited for a cough that didn’t seem to be coming, he tried to remember the last time he had a coughing fit or even what type of flower was currently growing in his chest. He couldn’t remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur shifted, the pillows jostling Merlin and bringing him out of his frantic thoughts. Arthur moved so that they were on the same cushion, their faces nestled close and their knees knocking together. Arthur’s hand came up to rest on Merlin’s side, running over his ribs, and Merlin was suddenly hit with the realization that they weren’t just sitting next to each other anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur took in a breath, and Merlin’s eyes were immediately on his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips pulled into a small smile, his eyes turning into crescents, “I love you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin opened his mouth to stop Arthur.  He couldn’t stand to hear Arthur’s desperate pleas to try to save Merlin’s life. But Arthur covered Merlin’s mouth with his full hand. Not exactly romantic. Merlin wanted to laugh, a hysterical giggle rising in his chest, more desperate than good-natured. Merlin’s breathing had been almost completely clear and in the back of his mind, he had known what that meant, even if he was capable of hearing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his hand still over Merlin’s mouth, Arthur said, “I love you and it has nothing to do with your illness. It has nothing to do with pity or obligation. I loved Guinevere for many years, but she’s gone.  I miss her every day, but I also know that she moved on and that she would want me to do the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin’s mind immediately conjured Gwen on his last day in Camelot, gray and wrinkled in her old age. She had known and accepted his love for Arthur so easily. She had believed him brave enough to tell Arthur the truth, and he wondered if she imagined that in another life, he could be happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin couldn’t help the tears falling down his cheeks. Arthur moved his hand, running a thumb over Merlin’s cheek, wiping it away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already loved you. You are my dearest friend. You are so brave and strong, and I’ll never understand how you don’t see that. You are kind and passionate, and even after a thousand years, your empathy is boundless. How could I not fall in love with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were so close to each other that Merlin could feel Arthur’s breath puff against his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ve said it yet,” Merlin swallowed thickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to,” Arthur said, his hand coming up to cradle Merlin’s neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin couldn’t help but laugh. It was the first time in hundreds of years that it wasn’t followed by a cough or a petal stuck in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ve ever said it,” Merlin whispered, finally looking up into Arthur’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur rubbed his nose against Merlin’s, and Merlin could barely make out a hint of white as Arthur grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t look so pleased, arse,” Merlin said, unable to help the grin that mirrored Arthur’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur lightly kicked Merlin’s leg with a playful smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” Merlin started, his throat clenching, and for the first time not on a petal, but on pure emotion alone. Merlin took in a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs, and letting it out slowly. “I love you. More than I can put into words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur smiled, his eyes closing with mirth. He leaned his forehead against Merlin’s, and Merlin felt his whole body relax as their noses brushed. Arthur’s hand was warm on the side of his neck, right over his pulse. Merlin felt safe and warm tucked up against Arthur and for the first time in hundreds of years, Merlin breathed deeply.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’ve had this idea for a while, but finally got down to writing it. I love the Hanahaki trope, but I’ve always wanted to write it differently than I have seen it done before. I wanted to write it similar to a chronic illness. I also wanted to acknowledge that just saying the words 'I love you' or  platonic love (although just as valid) could not cure hanahaki. </p><p>That being said, angst is not what I usually write, so feedback would be great!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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